


The Smiths & Windsor-Jones

by astraev, clarityhiding



Series: The Storybook Hour [5]
Category: Bandom, Doctor Who, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Panic! at the Disco, Young Veins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Crack, Crossover, F/M, Gen, M/M, OFC - Freeform, OMC - Freeform, Roleplaying Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-16
Updated: 2008-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astraev/pseuds/astraev, https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarityhiding/pseuds/clarityhiding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a big blue box crushing the poppies in the flower bed in front of the Smith house. Needless to say, Mrs. Smith is neither pleased nor amused. (Warning: This is a cracky fic that crosses the TSH AU with a HP-based RP game we were in while ago. Just so you know.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Smiths & Windsor-Jones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greeneyedharpy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greeneyedharpy/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** None of this happened ever. At all. _Doctor Who_ , the Doctor, the TARDIS, Slitheen, etc., all belong to the BBC. _Harry Potter_ belongs to J.K. Rowling. [Rupert](http://pics.livejournal.com/clarityhiding/pic/00058wc3/g3) and [Georgie](http://pics.livejournal.com/clarityhiding/pic/00054gab/g3) are B's, [Naia](http://pics.livejournal.com/clarityhiding/pic/00057a2h/g3) and [Cody](http://pics.livejournal.com/clarityhiding/pic/00053355/g3) are Kate's, [Ruth Ann](http://pics.livejournal.com/clarityhiding/pic/000598wf/g3) and [Mme. Noire](http://pics.livejournal.com/clarityhiding/pic/000559f3/g3) are Mandy's, [Moira](http://pics.livejournal.com/clarityhiding/pic/000561w3/g3) is Lina's, Nico is Kim's, and all of them are from [np_hogwarts](http://np-hogwarts.livejournal.com/) because we are insane like that.
> 
>  **Notes:** For the ever-lovely greeneyedharpy on the occasion of her twenty-first birthday. This is a sequel to [Crack in Time and Dimension in Now Playing](http://astraevirgo.livejournal.com/241676.html#cutid2), which astraev wrote for B for her 20th birthday. It's also a sequel to The Storybook Hour, just because Mandy's crazy in love with TSH-verse. Un-beta'd because we couldn't think of anyone who we could knowingly make suffer through it.

  
  


**Nevada, December 22 nd, 2010.**

There's loud banging on the door and a sharp voice demanding that, "Sebastian Ryan Smith, get your butt out of bed and get your blasted box out of my flower garden _right this instant!_ " Brendon groans and snuggles closer, pulling the pillow over his head. Mrs. Smith's tone softens and the banging stops. "Sorry, Brendon honey. Forgot you were in there," she says. "Just send him out and you go on back to sleep, alright?" Brendon kinda loves Ryan and Spencer's mom. She's awesome and she feeds him and she never ever complains or says anything about him and Ryan kipping in the house when they're in town and they want some respite from the traumatizing experience of having a room just down the hall from Jon and Spencer (because okay, yeah, Brendon's pretty much used to those two after four and a half years, but that doesn't change the fact that they're fucking _loud_ ).

"It's okay, Mrs. S," Brendon says, pulling his head out from under the pillow and smiling at the door, "I was ready to get up anyway."

"Freak," Ryan mutters next to him, though it really sounds more like, "Frrghhhh." Unfortunately for Ryan, Brendon hasn't got his shields in place yet today, so he hears the thought loud and clear and thus, once he's pulled his pajamas back on, he has no qualms about yanking the covers off of Ryan, exposing his bare ass to the chilly morning air. It's a nice ass. Not as nice as Brendon's, of course, but still decidedly nice, and he has plenty of time to appreciate it while Ryan slowly wakes up and realizes that the reason it feels so cold is because the blankets are gone. Ryan jerks up and glares at Brendon—a real, honest-to-god Smith glare in all its glory, which Ryan is somehow still able to manage even though he isn't actually a Smith, at least not on the genetic level (which Brendon sometimes thinks is a shame because, okay, Ryan's wonderful, he loves Ryan, but oh my god the _Smith Hips_ —Brendon doesn't know _anyone_ who's not a fan of those. Well, except for Ryan, of course, but as Brent's pointed out, Ryan's pretty much just Brendonsexual, and Brendon is totally okay with that). "What the fuck, Urie? Covers. _Now_ ," he growls and Brendon tries not to smile because he's managed this long without letting Ryan know exactly how adorable he is when he's sleepy and grumpy and not really very much awake yet at all and he's not going to let on now.

"Your mom says you need to get your box out of her flowers," Brendon says, taking another step away from the bed when Ryan tries to grab the covers he's still holding.

"I didn't leave any boxes in the flowers," Ryan grumbles, but he's struggling to his feet and stumbling over to the dresser to find some clothes, and Brendon just sits down own Spencer's empty bed and watches because oh yeah, that's a nice view too.

Brendon hugs the still-warm covers to his chest and buries his face in them. Mmm, Ryansmell. "All I know is that she's upset because there's some big blue box in her garden and she's afraid it's crushing the poppies and they only just got settled in, so," he says with a shrug. He didn't mean to spout all that, but hey, he just woke up and he can't filter very much of at all before his first cup of coffee. Ryan's got his shirt half-on, but he's stopped moving, is frowning at nothing. "...something wrong?"

"Big blue box," Ryan says in a slow, sleepy, deliberate manner, as if he's trying to figure something out.

"Yeah, that's what I said. A big blue bo–" And here's the thing about being able to literally read your boyfriend's mind—Brendon honestly doesn't know which one of them figures it out first, because this early in the day they tend to leak into each other's heads quite a bit, and anyway, they both say it at the same time, verbally and mentally.

"The Doctor."

**Scotland, March 11 th, 2006.**

Ruth Ann read in a book once that libraries were the location of some of the soft places in the world. Which, she was given to understand, meant that other worlds and other times sometimes intersected in the sphere of libraries, because there were so many different ideas gathered together in one place. This was an idea that rather intrigued her, as she was a child who spent a great deal of her free time reading books of a distinctly fantastical nature. Wishing to put this theory to the test, she began spending an inordinate amount of time in the library. The only downside to this was, of course, that she could not eat in the library (Madame Noire was rather strict about this rule and Ruth Ann thought it better not to chance it), but she felt that this was but a small price to pay in exchange for the possible chance of witnessing something truly extraordinary (well, more extraordinary than what she saw in class on a daily basis, that is).

When a strange grinding noise attracted her attention and she turned the corner to see what looked like a blue, oversized telephone box appear in the library, with Rupert stepping out of it even as Rupert was stepping up to it, Ruth Ann was suitably impressed. Her patience had, quite obviously, paid off. Creeping closer, she examined the blue box from behind as Madame Noire talked to the two Ruperts. Looked like wood... Couldn't see in the windows, though, and that was suspicious in Ruth Ann's book. Suspicious things were good, Ruth Ann believed, as they meant adventures. And the door to the blue box had been left open.

Grinning, Ruth Ann sneaked around to the front and peeked inside the open door of the box. Oh, wow. She glanced at the outside of the box again. Then back inside. Bigger on the inside than on the outside, she thought to herself with wonder, completely ignoring the other people present. That meant it was probably a dimensional pocket like her granddad's tent _and_ a replication machine (witness the two Ruperts, after all). And it could clearly Apparate, or something, since it just... appeared. Out of nowhere. How neat. This obviously warranted further exploration, and, quick as a cricket, she slipped the rest of the way inside.

There were shiny things and golden, glowing lights everywhere and Ruth Ann's heart did a flip in her chest as she scurried over to peer up under the casing of what had to be a control panel. It was in the middle of the room, which made her think of the big bank of computers in the lab with the spiders in _Spider-Man_ , and she wanted to see if these computers were placed there to hide a statue like the ones in the movie. (She still couldn't understand why the filmmakers thought it would make sense to shoot that scene in the rotunda of the Natural History museum—one didn't normally find marble columns in a science lab, after all.) So she was crawling around underneath the control panel when something grabbed her ankle and she very well nearly totally freaked out, because what if it was a giant spider, or worse, a vampire?! Ruth Ann really couldn't abide by vampires.

But it turned out to be neither, it was just Naia (not that Naia really warranted a "just," but that was another matter entirely). "Hey," she greeted Ruth Ann softly, "do you know what this thing is? I was getting books for my Arithmancy project and when I came back it was blocking my chair."

"I think it's a replication machine," Ruth Ann said seriously. "Also, a pocket dimension. But those aren't so unusual, so it's probably mostly a replication machine. There were two Ruperts! It was awesome. Like something out of _Slayers_. D'you know Rupert?"

Rather than asking Ruth Ann whether her head was screwed on straight, Naia nodded seriously, as if she understood what Ruth Ann was saying. Ruth Ann kind of thought Naia was full of awesome. "Yeah, he helps me with History of Magic. I don't know if the world's really ready for two Ruperts," Naia said, sitting back on her heels and pondering this for a bit.

"I love History of Ma—" Ruth Ann began, and the rest of her words were lost when the loud grinding noise started up again. The entire room shook like it was the middle of an earthquake, and she and Naia clutched at each other as they tumbled out from under the computers.

When the room finally stopped moving, the girls were sprawled out on the floor, shaken up and confused. A foot nudged at Naia's arm, and she and Ruth Ann glanced up at Rupert (Hufflepuff Rupert, Ruth Ann thought, because it was the one wearing school robes and a cheerful bumblebee tie rather than a suit). "H'lo," he said. "Naia? What're you doing here?"

Naia glanced at Ruth Ann, who glanced right on back. "Er," Naia said, trying to think of how to explain this. Luckily, Ruth Ann knew exactly what to say.

"Adventures!" the younger girl exclaimed excitedly, and all three students shared huge grins, since there was no denying that adventures would be the eventual outcome of this situation.

**Nevada, September 18 th, 2010.**

"Oh wow, blonde bombshell at table six," Cliff mutters, and Susie glances up from tightening the ties of her apron, and yeah, Cliff has a point.

"Too bad it's not your table," she says cheerfully, grabbing a fresh pot of coffee from the hot pad and heading on over. The blonde's even hotter up close, though as she nears, Susie notes that the woman (practically still a girl, really—she doesn't look much older than Susie's brothers) has a look of despair on her face as stares down at her hands. Susie hates looks of absolute despair. She gets enough of those around Stacey and Ryan, both of whom seem to relish teenage angst, never mind that neither one is still a teenager.

"'Morning," Susie chirps. "Coffee?" asks, gesturing her pot at the upside-down mug on the table.

The blonde jerks her head up, bites her lip, and nods. "I. Sure. Thanks," she says and oh god, she's _British_. Susie kinda has this thing about accents, British ones in particular, and she's rather proud of the fact that her hands don't shake as she leans in and turns over mug and fills it. Okay, well. She maybe flashes some cleavage while she's at it, but that's not the same thing at _all_ , and anyway, Brendon always says if you've got it, flaunt it, and _he_ managed to snag Susie's brother Ryan, who everyone pretty much figured was completely asexual, so Susie respects Brendon when it comes to stuff like this.When she leans in, Susie notices the gleam of metal on the blonde's left hand, and she glances at it with interest. Oh. Thin, gold band on the ring finger. Damn, figures.

The blonde grimaces when she notices Susie looking, and quickly covers up the ring with her right hand, then seems to think better of it and uncovers it again, tugging the ring off and dropping it on the table like a hated thing. Susie pretends not to see. "Are you ready to order?" she asks, cocking her hips and still smiling. She's rather proud of the hip-cock—she tends to forget to do it, even though Brendon's said over and over again that the Smith Hips are the most powerful weapons in her arsenal, which always makes Spencer roll his eyes, but all he has to do cock his hips just _so_ and Jon'll do pretty much whatever he asks, so Susie thinks Brendon might have a point. Honestly, Susie doesn't know what she'd do without Brendon to teach her these kinds of things—he's pretty much the best big sister _ever_.

The reputation of the Smith Hips is well deserved, as can be seen from the momentary glazing-over of the blonde's eyes, her gaze firmly fixed on Susie's hips. Susie totally doesn't do a little victory dance, because even if she isn't as sassy as her siblings, she's just as classy as they are. Mostly. The blonde must suddenly realize she's staring at Susie, because she wrenches her eyes away and grabs up the menu."God, I haven't even—" she starts, choking up halfway through and stopping. Susie glances around the diner, notes how few people are there (before seven on a Saturday in September, never a busy time for them, really), and makes a split-second decision, sliding into onto the bench across from the blonde and setting the hot pot of coffee on a napkin.

"Hey," Susie says, smiling an infectious smile, "it's not the end of the world. May seem like it, but it isn't." Because yeah, Susie's been working here part-time since she turned sixteen, and she's seen all kinds of people in all kinds of situations. Usually when she finds them crying over rings it's because a spouse has died, a divorce is imminent, or an accidental marriage has occurred (hey, this _is_ Las Vegas—would the movies make fun of it as much as they do if it didn't actually happen sometimes?).

"I don't even—" The blonde breaks off, picks up her mug, and takes a long drink. She not-quite slams it down again when she's through, and it's more than half-empty, so Susie fills it up again without comment. " _Fuck_ ," groans the blonde.

"Look, I know it's not my place to say anything, but if you need someone to just listen..." Susie offers, spreading her hands.

The woman looks like she's going to turn down the offer, and Susie's about to get up when the blonde volunteers, "I'm Georgie." She gives Susie a weak smile and Susie just beams in response.

"Susie," she says brightly, settling back down again.

The blonde—Georgie—smirks. "Yeah, I know," she says, and gestures at the name badge pinned above Susie's left breast. Flowers decorate the badge around her name, delicately painted with shimmery, iridescent paint. "Pretty."

"Thanks. My brother got bored last summer," Susie explains with a shrug. Ryan likes to paint things and as long as it doesn't hurt anything she doesn't care what of hers he paints.

"Wasn't talking about the badge," Georgie says lightly, and Susie flushes. Georgie hurries on before Susie can say anything in response to that. "My girlfriends and I were just in town for the weekend, but apparently I. Well. I got absolutely smashed last night and went and married some random bloke. I don't even _like_ men," she says, exasperated.

Susie pats Georgie's hand. "Do you know if you signed a marriage license? If you didn't plan this and it was completely on the fly, you wouldn't've had one prepared, I'd think, and the marriage bureau closes at midnight, so unless you got one before they closed, you should be fine—it's the paperwork that matters, not the ceremony," Susie says with a shrug. "And the guy can't get one unless you're there too, so..." she explains, outlining the specifics and verifying that no, Georgie isn't a U.S. citizen, among other things. It's not that Susie's an expert on Nevada marriage law or anything, but she's seen this happen enough times that she's read up on it. If nothing else, it tends to get her really nice tips. Right now, Georgie's giving her an awed look of respect, and yeah, that's better than any tip in Susie's mind.

**Nevada, December 22 nd, 2010.**

The TARDIS is sitting a bit lopsided in the front yard, crushing Mrs. Smith's poppies. Brendon's pretty sure that there's very little chance of recovery for the flowers, though he thinks he'll go ahead and let Ryan and Spencer be the ones to tell their mother that. Of course, Ryan is currently trying to explain to her that really, blue box is _not_ his, it isn't his fault it's there (which, okay, is probably not true, really—Brendon doubts that the Doctor's landed in the Smiths' front yard for any reason other than to see Ryan, since it's not as if _Brendon_ is the only other known surviving member of the Doctor's species after all). Rubbing his nose, Brendon steps up to the door of the blue box and knocks on it. Experience has taught him that this is the best way to check and see if the Doctor's in. Brendon hopes he is, because then he can explain the situation to Mrs. Smith and maybe Brendon can drag Ryan back to bed for more early-morning cuddling. Brendon's kind of a slut for cuddles.

At first there's no response from inside the TARDIS. Or at least there doesn't seem to be any—Ryan says the TARDIS contains a pocket dimension like the back of Black Belinda, only a _lot_ bigger, so it could just be that the Doctor is so far away from the door that Brendon just can't hear any response. (Brendon doesn't know what the inside of the TARDIS looks like because Spencer's forbidden Brendon from ever going inside, and forbidden the Doctor from ever allowing him inside because, apparently, "The last thing the universe needs is Brendon Urie loose in time." Which Brendon feels is horribly unfair, though Jon and Brent have backed Spencer up on this one, so Brendon thinks he'll maybe just have to wait until Ryan invents time travel. Brendon knows Ryan'll let him try out any time travel machine he builds, because unlike Spencer and the others, Ryan loves him.)

After a few minutes there's a loud crash inside the blue box, followed shortly by a shriek and then someone speaking. Though the words are so muffled by the TARDIS's walls that they're rendered completely incomprehensible, Brendon automatically translates whatever's being said as, "Well, _that_ can't mean anything good." (Brendon is pretty familiar with the tone of voice employed with those words, though usually it's Jon or Brent saying it after Brendon's convinced them to go along with his latest scheme.) The door finally opens and the Doctor pokes his head out, spots Brendon, and says, "Ahhh... Wait just a tick? We're not exactly decent at the moment." A second shriek—this one of laughter—wafts out and the Doctor disappears back inside, the door slamming shut behind him.

There's a yawn, and Brendon turns to see Jon. "'Morning," Jon greets around another yawn. "Doctor visit?"

"Jon, Jon, I think the Doctor's having a threesome," Brendon says quite seriously. "There's at least one other person in there, only it sounds more like two, and at least one of them's female and the Doctor said they're not decent and what if he's found other Gallifreyans and he's here to take Ryan away and make him participate in a bizarre, four-way marriage ritual to reestablish the species and I never see him again?"

"Who am I marrying now?" Ryan asks as he walks over, having apparently caught the end of Brendon's theory. He seems to've pacified his mother for the time being, since Mrs. Smith's gone back inside the house.

"Brendon thinks the Doctor's having a threesome," Jon says with a shrug. "I didn't catch the rest, though—it's too early for my brain to follow his logic. Sorry, Brendon."

Ryan rolls his eyes. "Brendon, stop being a spazz."

"But, _Ryan_ —"

The rest of his response is lost when the door of the TARDIS bursts open and the Doctor and his two companions stumble out. "Greetings from twenty-first century Earth, comrades!" the Doctor cheerfully says once he's regained his balance. Brendon, Ryan, and Jon stare at him.

"...maybe they don't speak English?" one of his companions suggests. Both of them are female, just as Brendon suspected, but they're also a lot younger than he originally thought. The one who spoke looks about fourteen, fifteen, and the other one could be a smallish thirteen.

"The TARDIS is supposed to translate automatically," the Doctor tells her.

" _I_ think we're still on Earth," the little one says. "It looks like Arizona to me. Smells like it too." She sniffs, sneezes, and holds the sleeve of the coat? cloak? robe? she's wearing up to her nose.

"Bless you," Jon says automatically, and she smiles brilliantly at him. Brendon's reminded of Susie when she was younger, and he grins at her. "And it's Nevada, actually."

"UCK, Rupert, why're we in _Nevada_? Nevada serves no purpose! It's a veritable hellhole of a place and a complete waste of space! We might as well still be at _school_ ," she complains, stamping her foot.

"Oh, hey, it's not that bad," Brendon says, a bit surprised by her harsh assessment.

All this is interrupted by a rather peeved, rather sleepy voice demanding, "Why the fuck are there Harry Potter freaks on our lawn?" Six heads turn to look at Spencer, who's sticking his head out of the back of Belinda. Because he's Spencer, he still manages to look dangerously intimidating despite the serious case of bedhead he has going on. The younger of the two girls eeps and hides behind the other one.

"Doctor visit," Ryan tells his brother with a shrug, acting like this should explain everything. Brendon supposes it does, in a way. Particularly when you consider the way the Doctor's visits tend to mess up their lives. They've only run into the man (alien? whatever) twice and Brendon knows this already.

Spencer climbs out of the car the rest of the way, shivering and pulling up the hood of his jacket as he stalks over. His eyes flicker over to the Doctor and he glares. Spencer will probably never stop suspecting the Doctor of trying to steal Ryan from him (Brendon thinks this is slightly unfair as it isn't as if Ryan is _just_ Spencer's anymore; he is totally a shared commodity these days). "Fine. Okay. Why the hell are you dressed up like a Hufflepuff," Spencer demands of the Doctor, "and who're the girls? If they're fans they can fuck off. It's early and I haven't had my coffee."

"I'm dressed like a Hufflepuff because I am one?" the Doctor replies helpfully at the same time that the smaller girl asks, "Hey, hey, who's Harry Potter?"

"Really? I always pictured you as more of a Gryffindor," Jon says thoughtfully, pleasantly pretending ignorance of Spencer's angry glare. Meanwhile, Brendon's busy staring at the girl, clearly astonished.

"Dude," Brendon says slowly, "what rock have you been living under that you don't know about Harry Potter?" And now that he thinks about it, the Doctor and the two girls really do look like they stepped out of one of the Harry Potter books. Robes, uniforms, and yeah, the Doctor's wearing a yellow and black striped tie while the girls sport ties with bronze and blue stripes.

"It's a series of books, Ruth Ann," the older girl says in a kindly manner as she tucks an errant strand of red hair behind her ear. "Some Muggleborn wrote about Hogwarts and passed it off as fiction. I mean, it _is_ fiction, mostly, since nearly all the characters are made up, but the books are being published by Muggles, so they think it's _all_ make-believe. It's a really popular series—they've made a few films and everything."

"Oh," the younger girl—Ruth Ann, Brendon supposes—says, obviously mulling over this bit of news.

The redhead turns to the rest of them and shrugs, smiling. "Look, I think there's been some confusion and misunderstanding here." She shivers slightly, pulls her robe closer around herself, and twiddles her fingers in a sort-of wave at TSH. "Hi, I'm Naia, this is Ruth Ann, and he's Rupert. We're sorry about your lawn, but we're kind of new at this whole, 'explorers of time and space' thing. We haven't quite figured out the controls for this thing yet, and I think Rupert might've accidentally hit auto pilot." And that's strange, Brendon thinks, because he doesn't think he's heard anyone ever call the Doctor anything other than, well, Doctor.

"Wait, but the Doctor's been doing this kind of thing for ages, I thought," Ryan says, confused. "Shouldn't you know how to pilot by now?" he asks the Doctor.

"Who's this Doctor you keep bringing up?" Naia asks, tilting her head to the side.

"Oh, that would be the bloke who lent me the TARDIS," the Doctor—Rupert?—says cheerfully. "Thought I'd said. Oops."

"Lent you the TARDIS," Spencer says flatly, clearly not believing it.

"Rupert Windsor-Jones, at your service. Not the Doctor, sorry," Rupert says, offering a hand to Spencer. Jon's the one who ends up shaking it though, since Spencer seems content to just glare for now. "You chaps know the Doctor?" asks Rupert.

"Ryan's like, his cousin or something," Brendon blurts out, which isn't necessarily true, but when you're the last two known surviving members of a species, you've got to be related _somehow_ , right? And, okay, random guy who looks just like the Doctor but is apparently from _Harry Potter_? Totally awesome in Brendon's book. Plus, he's always liked Hufflepuff. Badgers are fucking _fierce_. "Are you from Gallifrey too?" Brendon asks excitedly. Maybe Rupert's a distant relative of the Doctor; it would certainly explain the resemblance.

"Gallifrey? Where's that? Somewhere in Ireland?" Rupert asks.

"Sounds like it could be Welsh," Naia comments.

Ruth Ann shakes her head. "No, it can't be Welsh—it's pronounceable," she says. "We're from London, actually," she goes on to explain. "Well. London by way of Scotland. I mean. _They're_ from London, and I was born there, but I don't, y'know, _live_ there. It's better than Nevada," she concludes defensively.

"You're not aliens?" Jon asks, surprised. But Spencer's shaking his head, so odd as these three might be, they must be human.

"Well, _I'm_ not," Naia says, "and Rupert isn't. But Ruth Ann's the one who climbed up on the Slytherin table last fall and declared herself to be a scout from the planet Zord, bent on world conquest."

"The planet Xork," Ruth Ann primly corrects Naia. "I have a bit of a reputation," she explains to the others. "I try to live up to it and not disappoint people."

"We're wizards, not aliens," Rupert says. "Well, a wizard and two witches," he amends when Naia frowns at him.

Ryan's head shoots up. "Wizards are real?" he demands.

"I dunno. Rupert, are you real or fictional today?" Ruth Ann asks. She seems to be enjoying this whole mix up way too much.

"Ryan and Spencer's sister ran off to fight evil wizards a few months back," Brendon explains.

"Awesome. Is she a Muggleborn?" Rupert asks.

"No, she's a dancer."

"Oh, harsh."

**Scotland, March 11 th, 2006.**

Madame Noire and the Doctor watched as the TARDIS woooop-wooooped away. The Doctor was investigating the different types of werewolves that he had come across in his travels, and he had heard that there were a few of them around Hogwarts. A different kind of lycanthropy than infected the royal family, mind you, but one more similar than the type he ran into amongst the Quileute in rainy Washington. (Forks was the name of the town, if he recalled correctly. He and Martha had crashed quite a nice vampire wedding... but that was neither here nor there. Except that it was there. Anyway, he had to think about Hogwarts.)

The Doctor thought that these different werewolves may all be different apparitions of the Bad Wolf, possibly, but he had yet to examine the breed of werewolf in Scotland. The bonus to this trip was that Hogwarts came with a ready-made cover. In the shape of someone who looked just like him. The first place to learn about these particular werewolves, obviously, was the library. And, as he had made the deal with Rupert, he would have to "study" for the NEWTS anyway. And he was already there! Perfect cover.

"Where is your section on magical creatures?" asked the Doctor, and Lethe pointed him in the right direction. As the Doctor walked carefully through the shelves, he browsed the book titles and looked through the gaps. It was through one of these gaps that he saw a particular blonde head.

It looked extremely familiar. So familiar, it was possible that he had watched this particular blonde head slip through the void. And so the Doctor had to investigate whether this was the blonde head that he thought it was.

He slipped to the end of the row of books, and rounded the corner, hoping to cut her off, but he missed, and she was already half-way across the room heading toward a table piled high in books. She went and hid behind her stacks.

The doctor went and sat at the table next to her, and craned his neck, nearly falling out of his chair, attempting to verify if this... this was Rose. He couldn't see anything. If it were Rose, that would, after all, explain all the Bad Wolf instances he had run into, if they led him all here, to her. It would.

He to sit across from her, keeping his head low so she wouldn't see him above the books, and he slowly tried to look over the books, hoping to catch a glimpse...

"Oi!" she hissed. "Rupert, you sod, what are you playing at now?"

The Doctor pushed some of the books to the side so he could see across the table. "Oh, nothing," he said, trying to appear at his most innocent. It was hard, when it was clearly Rose. "How's the studying going?"

She scoffed. "You're lucky you're not competition for me in Transfiguration or Charms," she said, and flipped through the pages of the book she was studying.

"Why aren't I?" said the Doctor, suddenly quite offended that someone would infer that he was not the cleverest person in the room. He reached into his jacket and pulled out his smart specs, and put them on for emphasis.

"You're not taking them, stupid," she said. She shook her head in despair. "And what are you playing at with those glasses? They make you look like a cad."

There was silence for a moment. But the Doctor didn't want to give up. "Your middle name isn't... Rose... is it?" he asked.

"Caroline," she said, and she shut her book with quite the emphasis. "Georgiana Caroline Pyke, thank you very much. Now go impale yourself on your sword, Rupert. You could've looked it up in one of your infernal history books. Go AWAY."

"Quite right," said the Doctor, as he got up and walked away. No one would see his heart breaking.

**Nevada, December 22 nd, 2010.**

They're all gathered around the Smiths' dining room table when Brent finally shows up nearly an hour later. Once explanations had been made to Mrs. Smith for the blue box resting on top of her poppies (Rupert had seemed content to let Naia be the one to explain that, never mind that he appeared to be nominally in charge of their little group), she'd taken it upon herself to "feed up the poor, growing children."

"Pancakes? Awesome," Brent says as he leans in to grab one with his bare hands.

"I'd leave off if I were you," Spencer says, not glancing up from his cereal. "Mom says those're for the kids." He nods over to where the visitors are busy tucking in.

"Brendon's eating them too," Brent protests. "And Ryan."

"Brendon helped make them," Brendon says between bites. "And Brendon is biased, plays favorites, and has graciously allowed Ryan to have some as well in exchange for the promise of future sexual favors."

Brent makes a face at that. "Fine," he mutters. "I'll just ask." He wanders into the kitchen in search of Ryan and Spencer's mother.

Spencer shakes his head. "I don't want to be him if Mom finds out he's used his Thing on her."

Rupert swallows and sets down his fork. "His thing?"

"Brent has this Thing where he can make people give him what he wants," Brendon explains.

"What, like the Imperius Curse?" Naia squeaks, eyes wide. Next to her, Rupert freezes in the middle of cutting up a pancake, while Ruth Ann ducks under the table.

Brent comes back right then, carrying a plate, knife, and fork. He frowns at the tension in the room, the look of pure fear on Naia's face, the one of wariness on Rupert's. "Hey," he says in his calm, reassuring voice, " _Harry Potter_ cosplay. Those're some pretty sweet costumes." He sets his plate and utensils down on the table and nods at Rupert. "Nice to see you again, sir."

"They're not costumes," a tentative voice says from under the table. "They're uniforms."

"He's not the Doctor," Spencer adds as he passes the plate of pancakes to Brent. "He and the other two are students. They're from _Harry Potter_ or something."

"We're not from _Harry Potter_ ," Rupert says tightly. "He's fictional. We're not. We're from Hogwarts."

"From Hogwarts," Brent says in a neutral tone. He eyes Rupert and Naia.

"Yes," Ruth Ann says, peaking over the edge of the table.

"Alright then." Brent's been asked to believe more farfetched things since meeting the Smith brothers. This is nothing, really. "Why're you under the table? Your breakfast's getting cold."

"Don't want you to cast _Imperio_ on me."

Spencer sighs and rolls his eyes. "They think your Thing is like the Impervius Curse."

"Imperius Curse," Rupert corrects. " _Impervius_ just makes things waterproof. And it's a charm, not a curse."

"That's silly," Brendon says, shaking his head. "Brent's Thing is more like, uh... that lucky potion. The Felix one. He just says the right thing at the right time, he doesn't change the way people think."

"I'm an opportunist," Brent agrees. "Hey, is this real maple syrup? Sweet!"

"Maple syrup is made by elves in Vermont," Ruth Ann volunteers as she clambers back up onto her seat.

"Explains why it tastes so good," Brent says seriously, and the girl grins. "So, why're you here? I saw the TARDIS parked out front—is the Doctor here too?"

"We're avoiding NEWTs," Rupert says cheerfully. "Well, _I_ am, at least. The girls are just skiving off."

Naia rolls her eyes. "You're still going to have to take them, Rupert—it's a time machine. And I don't think Madame Noire is going to let you have the Doctor take your exams for you." She glances at Brent and shrugs. "The Doctor's at Hogwarts pretending to be Rupert while he does some research. Since it would get confusing to have two Ruperts there at one time, he let Rupert borrow the TARDIS for a while. Ruth Ann and I came along for the ride."

"Naia means they were stowaways," Rupert says helpfully.

" _Unintentional_ stowaways," Naia primly corrects.

"Hey, maybe _you_ were," Ruth Ann says. "I totally meant to come along. I mean, I meant to come along once I knew it was a vehicle. Time travel is spiffy-awesome."

Brent considers all this while his bandmates finish eating. They heard it all earlier and feel no need to get involved while it's recapped for Brent's benefit. "Witches and wizards, huh," Brent says thoughtfully. "So does that mean you three might know Georgiana Pyke?"

**Nevada, September 20 th, 2010.**

"So," Susie says as she sits down across from Georgie. "The thing is that I think you're really hot and funny and smart and interesting."

"Um. Thank you?" Georgie thinks the same about Susie—she'd invited Georgie to come to her dance recital Sunday night, and Georgie had been absolutely blown away by what she saw there. Even if Susie _hadn't_ been her saviour the other day, calming Georgie down when she was freaking out and talking her through the whole marriage fiasco, she'd still think Susie's amazing.

"But you're leaving today and I'll probably never see you again, and that is just not acceptable in my mind, so I've decided that I'm coming with you," Susie concludes.

"Wait, what? Susie, you can't— I mean, I'm flattered, but you're only, what, sixteen? We barely know each other, and—" But Susie's waving her hand as if none of this matters.

"I'll be eighteen in February," she says. "And, to be completely honest, I'm just using you as an excuse. It's... I'm doing it for myself, really. I need to get away from here, Georgie. I want to dance professionally," she admits, biting her lower lip and staring down at where her hands are clasped together on the tabletop. "But here I'm just defined by my family. I don't know if you follow music or anything, but my brothers are kinda famous. Or at least they're getting there. My sister too, probably, eventually. And I don't want people to pay attention to me because I'm Spencer and Ryan Smith's little sister, I want to do it on my own," Susie explains. "And to do that I need to get out of their shadow."

Georgie can kind of understand where Susie's coming from with all of this, in a vague way. After all, Georgie's had to live with the consequences of her mother's indiscretions for almost all her life. Sometimes in order to live up to your full potential you have to first get as far away as possible from where you started; family can really fuck you up if you let it. Still, that doesn't make Susie's plan any more _right_ , and Georgie says as much. "You're not even an adult yet over here, right? Wait a bit, finish school," Georgie concludes. "If you come with me now, your family will throw a fit and I'll be charged with kidnapping or something."

Susie just throws her head back and laughs. "Georgie, seriously. You don't know my family. We're about as unconventional as they come. In all likelihood the only ones who'll have any problem with my leaving will be my brothers, and that's just because they're overprotective."

"Well, you don't know me. I could be an axe murderer for all you know," insists Georgie.

"Mm, that's a risk I'm willing to take."

Really, this is all preposterous. "I'm a witch!" Georgie hisses, grasping for something that will convince Susie this is a very bad idea.

"What, like a Wiccan? Fine by me," Susie says with a shrug. "My brother's boyfriend was raised Mormon, but we don't hold it against him or anything."

Georgie makes an exasperated noise. It's clear that she's just not getting through here. "No, I mean I'm a _witch_. I have a wand and I cast spells with it." Most likely telling Susie this will cause her to think Georgie's completely 'round the bend, but oh well. It isn't as if Georgie is ever going to see her again after today.

Susie grins and leans forward on the table. "My brother's one of the last two remaining members of a nearly-extinct alien species that came from a planet millions of light years away," she counters. "Like I said—my family's a tad unconventional. I think I can handle a witch."

**Nevada, December 22 nd, 2010.**

"Georgie?" Rupert tilts his head to the side. "She's in my year, but not my house. I think I only have two classes with her this year. Why?"

"Huh," Brendon says, "so she really is a witch. That's pretty cool—Susie has good taste." Beside him Ryan's twitching and grinding his teeth. Spencer doesn't look much better.

"She's the one their sister ran off with to go fight evil wizards," Jon explains, nodding to Ryan and Spencer. "They're still a bit tense about that."

Spencer leans forward, hands gripping the edge of the table as fixes Rupert with a look. "This Georgie. Is she a good student? Does she do well in her classes? Is she good at magic?" he asks in a tight voice.

Rupert shrugs. "I suppose. She's doing better than me in Defense Against the Dark Arts. But that's a pretty boring class anyway—History of Magic is way better." Both Smiths seem to relax some at this news, though they still look a bit twitchy. It's a bit of a relief for Spencer to learn that Georgie is the same age as Rupert, though—he'd worried that Susie'd taken up with someone yonks older than her.

"Defense is _easy_ ," Ruth Ann says, rolling her eyes. "Rupert's just a _bum_. But History of Magic _is_ way better."

After breakfast, Mrs. Smith suggests that the guys take Rupert and the girls out to see the sights. When Spencer starts to protest, she says in a bright voice that she supposes she could probably find something for him and Ryan to do around the house instead. Spencer suddenly sees the merit in being a good host, and everyone hightails it off to get dressed. This includes the Hogwarts trio, who have apparently managed to find the Doctor's closet and are keen on exchanging their uniforms for Muggle clothes.

When they reconvene, Spencer is relieved to see that the visitors do have some concept of how to dress normally—he'd been a bit worried about that, recalling descriptions from the _Harry Potter_ books of wizards trying to dress like Muggles and failing spectacularly. In fact, if he's honest with himself, Spencer has to admit that they're actually more inconspicuous than Ryan when it comes to dress. Sometimes Spencer thinks Ryan's concept of time is rather shaky when it comes to clothes.

"Naia and Ruth Ann are half-bloods and I'm a Muggleborn," Rupert says with a shrug when Spencer comments on their apparent familiarity with non-magical culture. Spencer'd had a hard time believing the three were what they claimed to be at first, but after Rupert had demonstrated a few spells (the girls were underage and couldn't do anything outside of school), he'd grudgingly admitted that they might very well have magic. The rest of the band, being far less cynical and skeptical, simply took it all in stride.

They all pile into Black Belinda (though three extra is enough that people have to sit on laps—Ruth Ann on Rupert's, Naia on Brent's, Brendon and Ryan half on top of each other while Spencer takes the wheel) and head for the city. "I suppose we should go to the Strip," Spencer says with sigh. "That's what everyone always wants to see."

"I don't," Ruth Ann chirps, but Spencer ignores her. He's only known her for a few hours and he's already figured out that it's the best way to deal with her special kind of random.

They have a good time wandering around the Strip and laughing at the tourists for the next few hours if nothing else. They're passing through a lobby on their way to a hotel restaurant, intent on finding lunch, when Naia suddenly stops short and gasps, " _Cody Nelson?!_ "

A young man perhaps a year or two older than Rupert glances over at them, eyes widening behind his glasses. "Naia? What are you doing here?" he asks as he pushes his way over.

" _Me?_ What about _you_?" Naia squeaks, partly because oh hell, she hopes she's not about to be caught out for skiving off on classes, and partly because _wow_ , when did Cody get so _tall_?

"Someone you know?" Brent asks, giving Cody a once-over as he assumes a protective big brother stance behind Naia. (And Brendon doesn't doubt that the protectiveness is a part of Brent's never-ending quest to gain approval in the eyes of the Smith brothers—Brent is kinda totally gone on Stacey Smith's hips.)

"We went to school together," says Cody just as Naia blurts out, "He's dating my best friend."

"What are you doing here? Last I heard from Lia you were up to your eyebrows with schoolwork—I'm surprised you have the time to travel. I mean, I'm only here because I've finally got a rep from Apple to agree to meet with me about producing a magically compatible iPhone," Cody says.

"Why would you be meeting them here? Apple's based in California," Brent says with a frown.

"Bureaucracies aren't supposed to make sense, I think," Rupert says helpfully.

"You can combine magic and machines?" Ryan asks eagerly, eyes bright as he leans in over Naia's shoulder.

Cody blinks and stares at Ryan, his eyes flicking about to take in the other guys. "Um. Aren't you... Oh wow," he says, gaping slightly.

"You know," Brendon says conversationally to Jon, "I don't think I'm ever going to get tired of breaking brains like that."

"Bill said the same thing until he got his first stalker," Jon replies.

Naia and Rupert exchange glances and shrug—obviously there's something they're missing here, but who knows what. Naia _does_ think the way Cody looks all flustered is pretty awesome, though—she's never going to let him live this one down, she decides gleefully. "I, sorry," Cody says, cheeks flushed. "My fiancée's a really big fan, and. Um. Well. Naia probably already told you that, since she and Lia are joined at the hip, practically." He laughs nervously.

Rupert's eyebrows shoot up at this. "Smiths," he says sternly, "are you someone famous? Have you been holding out—"

"Fiancée? _Lia??_ " Naia interrupts with a squeak. She grabs Rupert with one hand and Ryan with the other, and pulls them to the side. "What year is it?" she asks Ryan in a hiss.

"Twenty-ten," Ryan says, about to say something more, but then his phone rings, and he holds up a finger, indicating that Naia and Rupert should wait while he answers it. After a brief exchange—"Hello?" "Have you seen an alien?" "Oh, you mean _right now_?" "It's okay," "You're welcome,"—he declares it a wrong number.

"...wow." Rupert says finally, clearly impressed by this news that it's the year 2010. "Space _and_ time—the Doctor wasn't kidding. Cool."

"Rupert, this _isn't cool_ ," Naia insists. "It's very, very _bad_. What if we find out stuff about our own futures and that changes choices we would've otherwise made in the past and we rip a hole in the universe?!" She glances nervously back at Cody, who's talking to Spencer and Brendon and looking a bit overwhelmed.

"I'm sure we can easily fix any paradoxes that happen to arise," Rupert begins, but before he can go any further, Jon pokes his head into their little group.

"Not to be an alarmist or anything," he says, "but did anyone see where the little one went?"

"Oh no," Naia says dismally, "we've lost Ruth Ann in the future. No good can possibly come from this."

**Scotland, March 11 th, 2006.**

The Doctor left the library posthaste after his encounter with that blonde Slytherin. There weren't any werewolves in the library, as far as he could tell, and the reference section on werewolves was surprisingly skimpy, in his opinion.

Okay, so this Rupert was a Hufflepuff, if he recalled correctly. The Doctor looked down at his uniform and decided, that yes, he was in fact a Hufflepuff. At least if he repaired to the Hufflepuff commonroom, he would not have to run into that Georgiana girl who looked disturbingly like Rose. Right down the mole on her face. Disturbingly like Rose. Maybe the void made copies...

Only when the Doctor was standing in the foyer just outside the Great Hall did he realize that he didn't know where the Hufflepuff Common Room was. Turning about, he went back to the library. He was in search of _Hogwarts, A History_ when Madame Noire came up behind him. "Rupert," she said, significantly, as if she had to remind the Doctor that that was his name, "What is it that you're looking for?"

"Well," he said, leaning back and considering. "I was looking for a book to tell me where the Hufflepuff common room was."

"As much as I admire studious use of reference materials," said Madame Noire, "I'll just show you."

"Why thank you!" he said. " _Allon-z!_ "

"I am your head of House," she said, soft-spoken per usual. "You'll have to remember the password." She leaned over to whisper it in his ear, and blushed while doing so.

"So noted and never forgotten," promised the Doctor, pretending to be Rupert. He followed Madame Noire all the way to the entrance, and then she slipped away, leaving the Doctor to let himself in. After he had let himself in, he stood for several minutes surveying the room and all of its possible escape routes. He was very surprised when he realized that someone much shorter than him had come in behind him, and was slowly walking around him. She too was blonde, and she too looked familiar, but it was a completely different kind of familiar. "Reinette!" he gasped. "Madame... _Madame de Pompadour_." Now this was entirely unlikely.

"Oh, are we in eighteenth century France tonight?" asked Reinette, who most certainly could not be Reinette, but since the Doctor had no clue what her name _actually_ was, he would have to continue with the role play. She stood on her tiptoes and puckered her lips, and the Doctor had nothing to do but oblige her with a kiss.

When he pulled away, he smiled and said, "I've just kissed Madame de Pompadour again," completely breathless and utterly overjoyed.

In response, Reinette wrapped her arms around his neck, and jumped so that her legs were wrapped around his waist. Into his ear she whispered, "Not in the common room this time. We got in so much trouble!"

And because he had a tendency to run into women he loved in this school, strange doubles of them, and because Georgiana told him to shove off, as opposed to Reinette who had, quite literally, jumped him—he gave into her.

What Moira didn't know, and the Doctor would never think to tell, was that the gametes of Time Lords have a very wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey quality.

**Nevada, December 22 nd, 2010.**

Though Naia's ready to panic and freak out, the situation is such that she really doesn't have the option of doing so. For one thing, it's probably best to allow Cody to keep on believing that she and Rupert are the Naia and Rupert of 2010, since Naia is pretty sure that one of the basic rules of time travel is to not let the locals know that you're not from the same time as them. (Yeah, okay, so they haven't exactly followed that with Smiths and friends so far, but Naia reassures herself that that's different—these guys already _knew_ about the Doctor and the TARDIS and everything, after all.) For another thing, Naia has to act responsible and together here because it's clear that Rupert can't be counted on to do so. Hopefully Ruth Ann is a mature enough twelve-year-old that she can manage on her own. Hopefully all the horror stories about Ruth Ann that've been circulating among the Ravenclaws for the past year and a half are greatly exaggerated.

"Best just go get lunch," Rupert says. "She'll show up when she gets hungry, I'm sure."

They invite Cody to join them for lunch (Naia maybe secretly wants to snicker some more over his obvious fanboying of Smiths and friends), but he has to graciously decline—the reason he happens to be at the hotel right now is that he's on his way to the restaurant because he has a lunch meeting with the Apple rep he's come to meet. He's still making worried noises about that to Naia as they all troop off to the restaurant.

When they arrive there, the rep looks rather surprised to see such a large group, and Cody flushes and explains how he unexpectedly ran into an old friend in the lobby and they got to talking. "This is Naia Bergren," Cody says, "and Rupert Windsor-Jones." Naia's pretty sure that Cody only vaguely remembers Rupert from school.

"Alfonse Andersen," the rep says, shaking Rupert's hand. He takes Naia's hand as well, only instead of shaking it he kisses the back, causing Naia to blush slightly and nervously bite her bottom lip. Behind her, Brent immediately starts up his protective looming again, and Andersen's eyes flick over him and the rest of the guys. "And of course these would be our local celebrities," Andersen says smoothly, releasing Naia's hand. "You certainly travel in some interesting circles, Mr. Nelson."

"Oh, uh. They're Naia and Rupert's friends, really," Cody mumbles, obviously flustered and trying to attempt some semblance of modesty.

Andersen laughs and Spencer stiffly mutters something about how they don't want to be a bother so they'll just leave Andersen and Cody to their business now. The maître d' who's been hovering nervously nearby during all of this leads them to a booth that has, apparently, already been reserved for them. They're a bit confused by this until there's a cheerful, "Well, _finally_ ," from the depths of the booth and Ruth Ann pops up. "You were being awfully slow and I was hungry so I got us a table. Naia, did you know these guys are _famous_? They're a band or something—there was a poster in the gift shop, The Storybook Hour. They have songs about unicorns—it's _awesome_."

"Yeah, Cody was freaking out over them," Naia tells Ruth Ann with a smirk. She gives the band an apologetic look as they all sit down. "Sorry, but I've never heard of you guys."

Brendon shrugs. "No biggie. You guys are from when, 2006? We weren't really all that well known back then. Had a different name and everything."

Rupert gapes. "How d'you know when we're from?" he demands. "We never said."

"Brendon's slightly psychic," Ryan says, a hint of pride in his voice. Brendon grins at him.

Naia tries to concentrate on the menu in front of her, but she keeps glancing over at where Cody and Andersen are sitting. They're close enough that she can see them, but far enough away that she can't hear anything they're saying, and Naia really, really wants to know how it's going for Cody because she's something of a busybody. Also, it's totally okay because it's not like it's _her_ future she's try to eavesdrop on, it's Cody's. And she's just trying to find out if Cody's successful or not with his deal. She's doing it for Lia, really, because Lia deserves the best and she's just trying to see if Cody _is_ the best. Yes.

Noticing the way Naia's craning her neck, Ruth Ann loudly proclaims that at least _she_ doesn't try to justify her nosiness. Rupert tells her it's not polite to point out other people's flaws like that. Ruth Ann shoots back that politeness is for boring people.

Luckily for Naia, Brendon is totally down with eavesdropping on people. He's pretty nosy and he's maybe really intrigued by the idea of a magical iPhone, even though he apparently has a sleek, svelte phone that Ryan made him. It's an awesome phone, but c'mon, Ryan, it isn't _MAGIC_. Or an iPhone. iPhones are inherently awesome. So it is that Naia and Brendon unite their stealthy talents in order to snoop. Or rather, they slip out of their booth and sneak over to the booth on the other side of the divider from where Cody and Andersen are sitting.

They are totally stealthy in their sneakiness—stealth embodied, or so Naia likes to think. In reality, they're a bit clumsy and Cody and the rep only fail to notice them because because they're so deeply engrossed in their conversation. Everyone else cannot help but notice Naia and Brendon, however, though they quickly forget about it because Brendon apparently convinces them to. Naia finds this psychic thing to be incredibly helpful.

Brendon and Naia try listening in, but they totally don't understand any of what's being said, since Naia's only gotten so far with theoretical thaumaturgy and neither of them knows much of anything about electronics. However, it turns out that all is not lost, as Brendon conveniently knows someone who does understand electronics. He gives Ryan a mental poke and asks him to come over. Naia is given to understand that Ryan isn't going to have anything to do with their spying at first, as he is well acquainted with Brendon's crazy plans, but Brendon knows Ryan's weaknesses. After he hints that maybe Ryan will find out how to combine magic and electronics, Ryan's totally there. Well. He is once he's sneaked over as well. (It seems rather unfair to Naia that Ryan's much more stealthy than either her or Brendon and totally doesn't need psychic talents to pass by unnoticed, never mind his outlandish clothes.)

Ryan understands a lot more of what Cody and Andersen are discussing. Naia's a bit surprised when he grabs her head after a few minutes, but then she hears Ryan's voice in her head, just as dry and sardonic as it is when he speaks out loud. He tells that he needs physical contact to communicate mind-to-mind with most people, then goes on to say that he needs her to explain some of the magical terms that are being bandied about in the adjoining booth. She isn't able to explain everything—there are some terms that she just hasn't learned yet, she's only a fourth year, after all—but she's able to give enough information that Ryan can apparently understand a lot of what's being said. After fifteen, twenty minutes Naia's starting to feel really hungry, and she glances longingly over to where Rupert and the others are happily munching away. Brendon's glancing over as well, but he looks distracted and strangely serious.

Naia has the sneaking suspicion that Ryan and Brendon are talking to each other with their minds and leaving her out of the loop, which is Not On, in her opinion, as Cody is _her_ friend to snoop on and harass. "What?" she hisses at the guys, trying to look imposing and scary and not at all fourteen and much shorter than either of them.

Ryan shakes his head, sliding out of the booth and tugging her out after him. The three of them sneak back over to where the others are sitting, both Brendon nor Ryan refusing to tell Naia anything until they get there, which just serves to annoy her more. As soon as he sits down, Ryan turns to Spencer, Jon, and Brent and says in a very serious tone, "We have a problem."

"Does this have to do with Cody?" Naia presses. "Oi, hey. Cody's my friend—you can't just decide to dislike him because he's building magic phones and things." These guys are a _band_ , they don't know anything about magic or You Know Who or anything about anything beyond what they've read in Rowling's silly books, and it is totally not right that they're being all serious and freaky about things.

"From what I picked up listening in, your friend is trying to construct a mind control device," Ryan snaps at her. "Sorry if I tend to be a bit concerned about something like that. Though I'd think you'd be worried about it too, seeing how you were so agitated at breakfast by the possibility that Brent might use _Imperio_."

" _Cody_?" Naia squeaks, eyes wide. " _Mind control?_ Cody wouldn't ever– I mean, yeah, he's a Slytherin, but it's not like he's evil or anything!" She glances at Rupert and Ruth Ann, trying to get them to back her up on this, but they both just shrug—neither of them know Cody as well as Naia, after all.

"Jon said this Cody chap's messing around with iPhones? And that iPhones are like... fancy iPods that get the internet and stuff? Everyone knows the internet's a kind of mind-control thingy," Ruth Ann says with a shrug.

Spencer frowns, fingers tapping out a fast-paced rhythm on the table. "Mind control? With iPhones?" he says, doubt clearly evident in voice. "Ryan, the kid's, what—eighteen, nineteen? I sincerely doubt he's capable of something like that."

"I didn't say he's doing it intentionally," Ryan tells Naia in what's probably intended to be a reassuring tone. It just sounds patronizing to her ears, but maybe she's bit biased at the moment, stressed and on the edge as she is. "But it sounds like the technology will be there to do it if the modifications he's proposing are made. Someone would have to know how to exploit it properly to get it to work, but from the questions Andersen's asking, it sounds like he's well aware of those possibilities." He glances at the rest of his bands and says, "It sounds like he wants to use magic to duck around the safeguards and things that've put the Archangel Network out of commission."

"Fuck," mutters Spencer. "I knew I didn't like Andersen, but I thought it was just because he had a really pretentious name."

"And he was trying to hit on a fourteen-year-old," Brent reminds him. "That's just creepy, man." Jon makes a noise of agreement, and Naia squirms slightly. She's used to her cousin Colin being all protective and big-brotherly with her, not random, attractive strangers. It's kind of nice, she thinks, but she quickly squashes down that thought. She's supposed to be annoyed with these guys—she must defend Cody and his honor!

Having listened to this entire exchange with great interest, Rupert pushes his plate to the side and leans forward. "What's the Archangel Network?" he asks, eyes bright and eager. Naia has to fight to keep from rolling her eyes—Rupert loves learning new things.

"That's right, it wouldn't've been implemented yet when you're from," Jon says, sounding a bit surprised, though who knows why. "The Archangel Network was this thing set up by a nemesis of the Doctor's who wanted to use it to control people and take over the world. Well. Will use it to do that, since he hasn't done it yet in your time. Only it doesn't work, since there was this paradox thing, so..." Jon sighs and shakes his head. "Man, time travel makes things confusing."

Brendon suddenly sits straight up in his seat and snaps his fingers. "I know what's been bugging me about Andersen—he's got no mental noise. Someone's gone and constructed a psychic shield for him, I bet. Spencer, Spencer, is he an alien? I bet he is—no humans have that kind of technology yet. Well. Except for Torchwood, and they don't share."

"And us," Ryan points out.

"Ryan, that doesn't count—you built the shields," Brendon says kindly.

Turning his attention to Andersen, Spencer narrows his eyes. "Brendon's right," he pronounces after a few minutes' study. "Andersen's movements are off. He's not... his hand gestures. And the way he holds himself. He's either from another time period or another planet. Probably the second. Any idea where he's from?"

"There is a _shield_ , Spencer Smith," Brendon reminds him. "I cannot possibly know something like that."

Brent rolls his eyes. "You freaks are hopeless on your own," he says. "Just get Ryan to take out the shield with his sonic doohickey." Next to Brendon, Ryan perks up and pulls something that looks like it might be the result of a flashlight attempting to mate with a can-opener. Brendon casts a longing look at it, fingers twitching slightly on the table, but he doesn't reach for it.

"Is this something you have to deal with often?" Rupert asks, hand creeping across the table towards the what's-it that Ryan's holding. Naia swats at Rupert's hand, glaring. Really, some people! Rupert pouts, but she ignores him.

"Aliens bent on domination and/or destruction of the whole human race? Not really, anymore. They've slacked off," Jon says cheerfully. "These days, we only get something like this once a week on average."

**Scotland, March 13 th, 2006.**

The Doctor could smell trouble, and he could smell it all over Hogwarts. But he wasn't really sure if that was a woman called Corina Mayfield (who was most certainly a Death Eater) or the scent of werewolves. Well, he couldn't really smell trouble, but it was a nice thing to say when he was trying to impress people. Two days after his encounter with Moira—who was Reinette's double, he'd have to figure out why Hogwarts contained doubles—he was back in the library, trying to decide why it had such an appallingly small selection of books on werewolves. This was getting him absolutely nowhere. He sighed with frustration when a Ravenclaw boy—the Doctor had learned his name was Nico from careful observance—came walking up.

"Rupert," he said, sitting down at the table. "Have you been working on that way for the Knight Lights to contact each other confidentially?" Nico was whispering, and looking around to make sure no one was hearing.

"Uh, yeah," The Doctor said. "A small object would be best..." the Doctor was prodding Nico along to see if he could figure out why night lights would need to communicate. Especially confidentially.

Nico nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly, so everyone could carry it around." The Doctor resisted the urge to open his mouth wide and say, "Ooooh."

"The erstwhile student group," he said, instead, and Nico didn't correct him, so he must be on the right path. "Yeah," said the Doctor, pretending to be Rupert, and started digging around in his pockets. They were, of course, bigger on the inside than they were on the outside, because this particular uniform he had brought with him from the TARDIS. He was trying not to let that on, though.

He pulled out a button sized object and put it in front of Nico. He tried not to make a face. Who had last used this uniform? Perhaps it was Jack, acting out some strange sort of fantasy, because the small object was a piece of fifty-first century technology, crucial in allowing men to become pregnant. "Uh, you can keep it," he said. "That's a prototype. Doesn't quite work right." The Doctor poked at it experimentally with his wand. It was real—Ollivander was an old friend—but not quite useful to a Time Lord.

"You'll get me a working one soon?" asked Nico.

"Oh, sure," said the Doctor.

(Nico never did get a working one, but he did keep the prototype. And somehow, inexplicably, the real Rupert ended up getting him pregnant. Magic and fifty-first century technology, in many ways indistinguishable, combined strangely and created Arianne. And strangely, Arianne was the one who time traveled, even if it was her half-sister Imogen's mother who'd had to deal with the tricksy ways of Time Lord gametes.)

**New York City, December 22 nd, 2010.**

Crinkling the old, faded receipt in her hand, Naia held her mobile to her ear as it was ringing. Today was the day that she had, in her own past, met The Storybook Hour. She was calling Ryan's phone, and she hoped that she understood time zones well enough to call _after_ the fact.

"Hello?" asked a voice which had to have been Ryan.

"Hey, is this Ryan? This is Naia." She cringed at herself and then tried to wave off the awkwardness she felt. "I'm really sorry, I must seem like a horrible fangirl."

"Have you seen an alien?" he asked, and Naia frowned, seeming to imagine that he was trying to put some sort of emphasis on the world.

"I did, in the past, with you," said Naia.

"Oh, you mean _right now_?" Now he really was trying to tell her something.

"Oh, bullocks," she said. "I'm really sorry. I meant to call after I'd gone, but the time zone thing in this country really confuses me."

"It's okay," said Ryan, and it did sound as if it were okay.

"I just wanted you to know that I'm a student at New York University," she said. "And that if you guys ever need a place to park Black Belinda in New York City, I've figured out a place for you." She smiled to herself. "Thanks for being so understanding, today. Which was a while ago for me."

"You're welcome," he said.

"If I recall," said Naia, "You told everyone that this was a wrong number. Tell the guys tomorrow who it was that called. You're always welcome here. Road trip, maybe?"

**Scotland, March 14 th, 2006.**

It was early in the morning on the fourteenth of March when the TARDIS reappeared in the library, just as the Doctor had set it to. Rupert, not being an expert at piloting the TARDIS, would have to, to a certain extent, bend to its will, including the will of coming back on the morning of March fourteenth, 2006. The Doctor believed that he would figure out the nature of the Hogwartian-type Werewolves in two and a half days, and he hadn't, so he was going to go further afield to find more of the species, as you would.

A ginger girl (the Doctor envied her hair) and an not-quite-ginger girl came out of the TARDIS with his double. "Thank you very much," he said, and walked in as immediately as they came out.

"Sir," the not-quite-ginger girl said sternly, marching straight up to the Doctor. "Your time machine is broken. Faulty! Defective!" Coming to a stop, she glared up at him, hands on her hips.

"Ruth Ann," ginger said with a sigh, "just because the TARDIS wouldn't let us go to the Black Death because there was too great a chance of us getting sick and dying doesn't mean it's broken."

"It's biased!" Ruth Ann insisted. "It let us go to other dangerous places where we could've died! Like, uh... Las Vegas! We were so, so lucky Spencer asked for balsamic vinegar to put his salad or else that Raxapathawhatever might've EATEN us! And then where would we've been? In someone's stomach with our brains controlled and it would've been AWFUL!"

"Oh, did you get to meet the Smiths?" the Doctor asked, smiling at them. "Lovely people, the Smiths. Nice music."

Rupert grinned. "I got to build a magical shield for the Archangel Network and save the planet! Naia and Ruth Ann helped. It was great."

"Blasted Network," the Doctor said with a frown. "I keep meaning to get rid of it, but there are so many things that need doing these days. Good to know that Smiths and company are looking after it, though. Well, cheerio, children. Study hard, learn things, save the world—you know the drill." He smiled and waved, and began to close the door, but Naia caught it before he could shut it completely. "Yes?" he asked. "Something the matter?"

"Er. Just... as a warning. We couldn't find the laundry room and, well, apparently Rupert's wand didn't want to behave properly in between time periods, so... You might want to do the wash sometime soon? Just a thought. Thank you for everything—it was a very educational experience." She let go of the door and quickly stepped backwards, watching as the TARDIS phased away.

"Why'd you do that?" Ruth Ann asked with a sigh. "He didn't _need_ to know we caused a mess."

"Right," Rupert chimed in. "I bet it's relatively simple to get Chelonian guts out of silk."

Naia rolled her eyes. Honestly, those two. They didn't know how lucky they'd been to've had her along for the ride.

The funny thing was, that very evening after the Doctor left, there was a werewolf attack in Hogwarts. Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey... Sometimes even Time Lords miss the big things.


End file.
